Saturday, November 3, 2012

Stepping Out Of The Folksong

Who will applaud
the Slavic girl spinning
in paisley skirts
with a tabourine in hand,

the tall poet
playing a flute
in his white shirt
with embroidered vest ?

Maybe the wind
slapping dusk
with golden leaves
and the cold vacancy
of a park.

Who might roll
a bottle of vodka
toward the lovers
dancing to forget
the world,
                its hunt for war?

.Maybe the silver dog
who drags in night
               (the heavier dark)

and sniffs a pint
of liquor spilling
under the bushes.

The blood hound who let
his star burn out – -
                  becoming now
its shadow of frost,
this damp weariness.

What statue will lean
over the couple
as they sleep
on burlap and slight bones?

Only the stone
woman who stoops.
stretching her scratched hands
                 toward God.

1 comment:

anna9 said...

Hi wendy, I like the images in this poem.